


Bang Bang (Whatever it takes)

by DarkShadeless



Series: Talk dirty to me [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood, Captivity, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Sexual Harassment, Sith Culture, Sith!Theron, cold-blooded murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25060702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Theron, Yon and their strike team get captured on a mission in Zakuulan space. It's the bad start of an even worse day.
Relationships: Theron Shan/Male Sith Warrior
Series: Talk dirty to me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795516
Comments: 12
Kudos: 48





	Bang Bang (Whatever it takes)

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags. Things get a bit graphic.
> 
> Based entirely on Sar being badass and my low-key desire for LS and DS decisions to actually have different consequences.  
> Oh and Sith!Theron headcanons. So many headcanons.

_This_ , Theron thinks, not quite desperately, _was not how I wanted to end up seeing Sar in handcuffs_.

No, there had been a lot less mortal danger involved in those occasional fantasies. And safe words. He’s pretty sure there had been safe words. ~~~~ ~~~~

… a safe word would be kind of great right about now.

Theron sweeps the cage they’ve left him for the third time in as many heartbeats, for a weakness, for _anything_ he can bloody use but there’s nothing to be found. The Force reacts to his distress, burns against his mind and he _reaches_ , instinctively, like breathing-

The moment he does his nerves are on fire. His perception of the world drowns in pain.

Faintly, Theron swears he hears someone call his name.

“-an! Bloody void, _stop_!” The electricity coursing through him distorts the voice to near incoherency. That’s the only reason he can imagine Jorgan’s dulcet bellow almost sounds _concerned_.

Theron wants to brush him off, the urge is strong, but not as strong as the feeling that he’s going to swallow his own tongue if he tries. He grits his teeth, hard, the ache imperceptible set against the sheer agony the stuncuffs he’s stuck in are making him suffer. The shocks taper off again an eternity later.

Kriff.

Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. Jorgan is right, he needs to stop, he needs to stop reaching for the Force but he _can’t_.

What is going on in the next cell over is only spurring him on.

As if on cue Sar makes the faintest of sounds, small and shocked. _Wet_. The knight that has him crowded against the back and is feeling him up leans in harder. “That do it for you, filth?”

Theron can _hear_ his smirk, the sick joy he takes in watching Sar struggle weakly under his weight. The Force howls in his ears. The cuffs react, pain steals his breath and greys his vision but he _doesn’t care_. Stars, he has never wanted to kill anyone this much, not even the murderer of his master.

From the moments the Zakuulans had gotten the drop on them, Sar had been off. Something about the situation got to him. Theron has never seen him like that, unsettled, pale, flinching when the warden invaded his space to lock him up tighter.

Maybe Sar knew what kind of guy they were dealing with before he did. He does read people with an accuracy Theron has only ever seen in Force sensitives and Imp Int agents and the bastard had barely waited until the door of the cellblock shut on the rest of his cadre before he got fresh.

No, this is _not_ how Theron wanted to get an eyeful of Sar bound and helpless while someone is having their merry way with him. It’s bloody torture to watch, worse than any punishment the binders can dish out. So no, he won’t stop, he can’t, no matter what. He needs to get _out_. He needs to _stop this_ before-

The guard steps back, just a little. Just enough to take in Sar where he has hung him from the wall by the connector-beam of his cuffs. He has given him enough rope to make a sight of it. Yon is hanging listlessly, struggle long since faded under the threat of what will happen to his team-mates if he doesn’t keep it down.

Theron wants to tear that asshole’s throat out with his teeth. The urge is so strong he can _taste_ the blood.

But he can’t make it past the liquid fire that fills him to the brim every time he tries, can’t find the focus he needs in the face of it and the failure of that is burning through him like acid. If he were better, if he were _stronger_ , if he had more discipline he could do it- If, if, if. But he has never been good enough, has he?

The knight fumbles with the belt of his armor. Terror reaches for Theron’s lungs and squeezes tight.

He doesn’t see it coming. Not until the warden’s helmet tilts down every so slightly and Yon looks up for the first time since this horror show started. His bangs fall back just enough for Theron to meet his eyes. They’re cold enough to freeze him from the inside. 

It happens so fast.

One moments Sar is hanging by his wrists like a slab of meat, the next he has wrapped his legs around the waist of the knight for leverage and is pulling himself _up_ in a demonstration of core-strength that has Theron’s stomach clench in phantom pain. One of his cuffs hits the hook above his head.

Before the knight can do so much as shout in surprise Sar has the cracking tether of coiled energy wrapped around his throat and let go. The line pulls taunt under his weight.

The knight’s struggles devolve into convulsions immediately and violently. Theron has enough time to blankly wonder why he would go so quickly when the lethality of the cuff-connector makes itself apparent. With a stomach-turning sound the knight’s head separates from his body in a shower of blood.

Sar catches the falling corpse with his legs and levers himself up again, nimble as a loth cat, to get at the guards belt. He’s free before Theron has a chance to fully process what has _happened_.

Force.

* * *

Okay. So… Theron knew Sar was… competent. He did. Usually a show of that edge he has, the one he hides so well, gets Theron going like nothing else. This time it… doesn’t. Maybe he’s still queasy about what almost happened, what he _thought_ would happen, could be that.

He glances at where Sar is hacking the main console with the precision of a surgeon. His face is entire blank.

… somehow Theron doesn’t think that’s it.

But he can’t exactly sidle up to him and ask him something stupid like ‘ _Are you okay?_ ’ For one, Sar would probably kill him in cold blood, he looks like he is in that kind of mood, for another-

Theron will never figure out whatever that thought would have ended as.

The hum of _wrongness_ against his senses intensifies. He watches Yon out of the corner of his eye, can’t seem not to, as if he’s going to disappear the second Theron takes his eyes off him and then he _sees_. He sees what he is doing.

Intel is long since done with. ‘Watch my back and I’ll find us a way out’, that was what Sar said and that’s what he _is_ doing, he is-

It’s weakness. It’s incredibly foolish but Theron has always, always been too soft and even after living through the invasion of Korriban by Zakuul that hasn’t changed.

Before he knows it, before he realises that he has been inching closer to Sar step by step, he finds himself right beside him, so close he can make out the blood spatter on his dark fatigues. Sar is very, very still. His fingers are hovering over the virtual keyboard, Theron’s hand around his wrist.

_'When did that happen?'_

Theron’s heart is pounding in his chest, so hard he can feel his own pulse in his fingers. He doesn’t dare look at Yon’s face, can't unglue his eyes from the screen with it’s many, many vid feeds.

#Proceed with security override?#

#Yes/No#

“You can’t.” The words squeeze themselves past the knot in Theron’s throat. Oh stars, what is he doing? He’s an idiot. He’s a sentimental _fool_ and Sar is going to murder him for interfering with their mission. And he should.

“It’s the only way.” Sar’s voice is flat, without inflection. Above their joint hands the final command window for the airlock controls flickers as it refreshes.

#Proceed with security override?#

#Yes/No#

Theron swallows hard. “There are civilians in the hold.”

He doesn’t know why he is doing this but he has always been… foolish. He can admit that to himself, even if he would (has to) make anyone who would say it aloud regret it.

Sar’s fingers curl ever so slightly. With enough coolness to chase chills down Theron’s spine and for once not the pleasant kind, he says, “Our mission is of vital importance.”

It is. They all know it. The information they have retrieved could mean an edge in hit-and-run attacks for months. Lives saved. Resources retrieved. It could mean a step toward victory and they need every advantage they can get. The Empire of Zakuul is far, far too far ahead.

Theron wavers. He knows Sar is right. He knows it. But… “Can’t you cordon them off or something?” The tremble in his hand doesn’t make it into his voice. It’s his only saving grace.

Tense silence falls. He is too aware of their team at their back, listening to every word of this insubordination. Theron is bracing himself to be ordered back to his post, thoughts a whirlwind of emotion and self-recrimination, so distracted it makes him flinch when Sar breaks the quiet.

“I can try.”

* * *

It’s a terrible decision. Sar is good, the best hacker Theron has ever seen, but even he can’t work miracles. 

He doesn’t space the civilians but in the end that means he doesn’t space all the _enemy_ _combatants_ either. They’re barely halfway to the hangar when their smooth exit turns into a free-for-all firefight with lightsaber support.

Theron takes the blaster shot that graces his arm when he drags Jorgan to safety before a knight can gut him as his due. It hurts worse than a K’lor’slug bite, too close to the surface to numb the nerves, too deep not to be _agonizing_ , but it’s what he deserves. He could have gotten them all killed. It’s a wonder they make it off the station in one piece.

He fully expects to get a lecture for that just as soon as Sar pulls his head out of mission mode enough to waste time on that.

Yeah. If he ever had a chance there? That’s probably how he fucks it up. Who would want someone like him? Someone who doesn’t have the guts to pull through? Even Lana won’t put all of her faith in him and Theron knows why. He can _understand_ it.

Risking a mission for _sentiment_. He has always been too soft.

That’s the kind of thought circling in his mind when his neck prickles with the weight of someone watching him. Theron almost tries to pretend he didn’t notice. He knows Sar’s still pool of an aura well enough to tell it’s him.

But whatever else he is, he has never been a coward, so he lifts his head from his hands and he looks up. It’s not until he is meeting the agent's eyes that he falters. There’s something strange about the look on Sar's face. Unease churns in Theron’s stomach.

Jorgan shoulders his way past their mission leader with a scoff but Sar doesn’t bother to acknowledge him. He just keeps… keeps… “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Sar tilts his head ever so slightly but the thoughtful cast of his dark, dark eyes doesn’t change. “Like what?”

Theron’s mouth is so dry his tongue is sticking to the roof of it. He likes Yon. He really does. He is everything Theron wishes he could be, strong, dependable, sharp as a blade and twice as merciless. _He_ wouldn’t hesitate. Why would he waste time with someone who does? “Like you’re seeing me for the first time.” It’s a strange kind of ache that comes with this admission.

“Maybe I am.” Where he could make it cruel Sar’s words are just... pensive. Theron doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

There’s a shock of warmth on his cheek, emphasized by the faint burn of a cut he hasn’t bothered to treat, that’s so unexpected and alien he doesn’t realize Sar is touching him for a heart-stopping moment. Then his pulse picks up double-time.

Theron is still frozen in place, mind entirely blank when Sar drops his hand to his side. “You should slap a bacta patch on that.”

He turns and leaves for the cockpit as if nothing has happened before Theron can stop reeling.

What was that?


End file.
